Love is Love
by xChocokitten
Summary: Alfred is in a happy relationship - or is he? What do you do when you're dating one member of your family who loves you beyond reason, but you're really in love with a different one who would never look at you lustfully? Mature themes.
1. Prologue

A/N: Just a few Author notes before we begin. First of all, this story is going to contain yaoi - boyxboy love. There will be mature themes, and explicit scenes. If that is going to bother you, don't bother reading. Alright? Alright. I'll have more thorough author notes at the beginning of the actual first chapter. I don't want to spoil anything. That said...enjoy. (:

**Love is Love  
Chapter: Prologue**

Darkness. Silence filled the room, broken only by the rhythmic panting that came harshly from the two males.

"Touch me.. I want to feel you touching me," a voice demanded, soft and delicate, effected by a heavy breath. Alfred obeyed, long fingers raking over the other male curiously; carrassing his cheeks, gently sliding down his chest, stopping when they brushed across the obvious hardness in his briefs - the only piece of clothing that separated the two. A gasp escaped the slender male beneath Alfred as he rubbed at the member with tender passion.

"Alfred - I -- " his voice cut off, replaced by a longing moan,

"What? Alfred I _what_?" America taunted, smiling deviously as he pulled at the elastic on the briefs.

"Please, I _need_... I .. I - " the soft words came, stuttered and forced.

"What's the matter, Arthur?" he asked with a cruel smile stretching his lips.

"_Stop teasing me!_" Arthur cried, his voice cracking and heavy with accent, his member throbbing with need, his desire clearly plastered across his face, eyes full of passion.

Alfred grinned, and tugged down on the fabric, pulling the other's member free and

_and -_

"Al, dear.. wake up." a soft, nearly inaudible voice rose, delicate hands rubbing at his long structure. Turning, eyes opening reluctantly, Alfred gazed up at the other male, irritation hidden in his face.

"I'm running a bath for us. You have that meeting today and - "

"Thanks, Matt." Alfred responded, cutting him off as he sat up, smiling a fabricated smile before leaning over and kissing Matthew's cheek, sleep evident not only in his voice but in the slow movements of his body. Matthew smiled back,

"I'll call you as soon as it's ready. It'll just be a sec, eh?"

"Alright." he replied, plopping back down as Matthew left the room, trying desperately to fall asleep and recapture his dream; but it was of no use.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I hope you read the prologue first. I don't think you'll get the full impact if you don't! So if you haven't, please go back and read that. D:

Moving right along. I'm sorry, the first chapter is a bit off. It's just a building block to give you all an overview of what's going on and everything you need to know. So it's a bit boring and sort of jumps around a bit. I apologize. But I promise the next chapter is going to be much better. So I hope you'll power through this one and I'll see you again next chapter! Alrighty then ~ Enjoy! :3

**Love is Love**

**Chapter: 1**

Alfred lay silently in his bed. It was large enough for two people, and clearly occupied accordingly, an imprint permanently fixed into the pillow that rested inches away from his head. Blue eyes were half closed, a look of slight displeasure in place, the sound of running water in the distance filling his ears. His brother's voice having called for him moments ago already, he forced himself to rise, the cold air of the morning greeting his skin harshly. Rubbing briskly at his shoulders, he wobbled down the hall, seeming more drunk than half asleep.

Hearing his heavy footsteps, Matthew turned around, a soft smile lighting up his face. Alfred was amusing to watch when he was drowzy - but more so when he was actually drunk. Matthew often cursed himself for not having a video camera to catch just how outrageous and hilarious he was when he was intoxicated.

"Come on, Al." he smiled, waving toward the tub as he entered the room with him. "You look like you had a rough night." he teased as the other struggled a bit to remove his boxers.

"It was quite extraordinary, actually." the bigger male replied absently, not much thought behind his words.

"What do you mean?" tone turning curious as he climbed into the tub, Matthew watched his brother follow suit, a concerned look on his face.

"What does what mean?" Alfred asked, cheeks burning slightly as he started to realize what he said.

"What you said, Al." Canada's tone falling serious.

"I - I don't know. Sorry, I was half asleep. You know sometimes I say weird things when I'm tired.." he shot back, gaze falling to the water that rose to his thighs, hand reaching out instinctively for the wash cloth which rested over the side of the tub.

Matthew smiled. It was true. He couldn't deny that. Alfred has said a lot of weird things when he was tired. Once, he could remember getting very upset over such an occurance. He could still remember the event so crisply, but he couldn't help but chuckle at it now.

_The two of them laying together in bed, the younger male sensing the exhaustion from his elder brother, and cuddling closer to him whispered "I love you, Alfred." affectionately. Voice slurred, the American grumbled softly, "Hm? Yeah. I - I love you too, garbage."_

"Yeah. You _do _say some pretty odd things when you're sleepy, I'll give you that, I guess." a breathy laugh escaping him as he reached for his own washcloth, pumping soap onto it, spreading it evenly across his skin, a rich lather forming in it's trail.

Alfred and Matthew had been together as a couple for a long time. Since Matthew had turned officially legal. Of course, it came as little shock to everyone else - after all, the two boys were hardly ever separated as children, and their relationship became even more obvious when that fact didn't change when they grew older, Matthew still crawling into Alfred's ned from time to time even as he grew well into his teens. _Of course, the intentions had changed for him doing so. _However, while it didn't come as shock neccessarily, that didn't mean it was accepted entirely. Arthur seemed very displeased with this situation from the beginning, trying at first to reason with his children and correct them saying that it wouldn't be proper, seeing how they were brothers and all. He only stepped off it after France argued with him on the matter drilling "Love is love" into his head, which he learned to reluctantly accept over time.

Today, Alfred had a meeting at work. He worked as a cooperate business manager, dealing heavily with the entertainment industry, but is by no means limited to that area. If one were to hear his position, it's sure that he would sound as if he were one of the top ranking members at the industry, a man to be taken seriously with high regard. But in actuality, his position would be considered far from the top. And though he is highly regarded, it wasn't for his actual work. If anything, his position in the industry was more of a joke in the eyes of his fellow workers.

Arthur was the owner of the industry, which is huge and expansive. It was no secret that Arthur was Alfred's father, and it had grown to be widely assumed that the only reason he was initially hired was due to their relationship. As such, he of course is treated with much respect, but most people chatter about him behind his back and doubt his ability in the profession.

For this reason, Alfred sometimes grew frustrated. He was outraged that people would come to assume such, as Arthur would never have hired him if he didn't know that he was capable in the first place. He wasn't like that; the old bastard never gave Alfred an inch, lest he take a mile. His entire life it had been that way, it wasn't going to change over a job position - especially since giving an inexperienced person that position could effect _him_ negatively.

"So Al, you got that meeting today. You nervous?" The younger male asked bleakly. He had always been curious to know what was going on in his brother's life and how he actually felt about it. And usually, Alfred loved to talk about it. It seemed he could easily talk for hours when the subject was focused on himself. Which drove most people insane; Matthew was one of the few, possibly the only one who actually enjoyed it.

"Yeah. I don't know, not really. Just not thrilled, you know?" his tone came in dry, the life seemingly sucked out of it.

Matthew frowned, leaning over to splash water on some suds that remained on his brother's shoulder that were bothering him.

"Is mum going to be there?" he attempted to get him to say more on the matter, not satisfied with the lack of his usual work related morning rant which he found to be oddly attractive.

"Dunno." the other muttered back quickly, his cheeks starting to heat up as he pulled his face away to stare in some, _any_, other direction. "Why does it matter?" his tone now a scoff.

"It doesn't, I guess. Was just curious, eh." the violet eyed male shrugged his boney shoulders before standing up and draining the tub. "Come on, you wanna have time for breakfast, right?" his sad face easily twisting into a smile as he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked calmly down the hall.

The smell of pancakes filled the air, America's nose twitching at the familiar scent. Pancakes were Canada's favorite, it was one food product that he could suffocate relentlessly in maple syrup without receiving unsettling stares. It was for this reason that he had completely mastered cooking them and had hundreds of variations, as surprising as that may be, for the particular food. It was his specialty and America never got tired of tasting the odd but delicious mixtures he prepared.

"Today I tried hazelnut and cinnamin, it's really good. Try some, babe." his excitement easily readable in his tone. He loved to see his lover's expression when he took the first bite of his lovely piece of art.

"Er, I want to be early for work today. You know, to set a good impression."

"So you don't want anything to eat?" sad eyes gazed the entirity of the kitchen, bowls and boxes messily spread across the counters, pans greasy and forgotten on the stove.

"Sorry, not today. Save me some for later?" Alfred offered the proposal when he noticed the other's expression fall, a desperate attempt to cheer him back up. Only somewhat succeeding, Matthew flashed a quick, small smile, nodding and wiping his hands on his apron.

"Alright. Have a good day at work." he bid his usual farewell, walking over to kiss Alfred tenderly. "See you when you get home."

"Of course. Be a good boy while I'm gone." the larger male half teased, turning to leave the house.

"I love you." Matthew's voice rose meekly before the door shut.

"You too." Alfred replied, not turning back to face him.

Alone. Matthew stood in his place silently, staring at the closed door, feeling as if it were a barrier between him and his lover; as if it took Alfred's entire being away from him each time it closed behind him. A small sigh pushed past his lips, and he turned after several long moments - ones that felt like an eternity; ones that only marked the beginning of an even longer day.

Usually Matthew felt very close to Alfred. He would certainly, if ever asked, consider their relationship to be a happy one. Most times, his brother seemed satisfied and content with everything in his life; Matthew would never have suspected that he wasn't. And there was no mistake that Matthew was absolutely pleased with his own life as well. He didn't need to work because his brother was able to provide for both of them, which was a huge relief to him. Being shy and soft spoken, the mere idea of a job pinched painfully at his easily triggered anxiety. And Alfred had never been very controlling or possessive, so he could basically do whatever he wanted. Though he usually preferred to stay home anyway. And of course, he had the best lover in the world. Alfred was strong, dominating, and rough, but he had a way of being kind and gentle at the same time. In bed, or just in general, he was so relaxed and confident in everything that he did.

It was no wonder that America was so easily likable. Of course, it did slightly bother Canada that perhaps, he was a bit _too _likable. Girls often swooned over him, which made Matthew a bit tense at times. But who could blame them? What's not to like? But he was able to get over it quickly, finding it easy to do, as America had never shown any interest in girls anyway.

It seemed, though, that Alfred's personality did nearly a complete 180 whenever he had one of these meetings coming up. It always worried Matthew, no matter how many times it happened. He figured the meetings must shake him up, but he couldn't imagine why. Perhaps public speaking on a larger scale with the pressure of possibly getting demoted or fired made Alfred's stomach turn? Strange as the idea was, he had pretty much grown to accept the assumption. He was glad though. Today was the day of the meeting, which meant that when he came home from work, he'd be back to his old self again, as it allways worked out that way.

Smiling to himself, Matthew slid over to the drawer and pulled out a piece of paper alongside a pencil and began to jot down a shopping list. "He'll be really happy if he comes home to a nice dinner!" The thought of Alfred's face when he got home practically having Canada singing a blissful tune of nothingness.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay! So I finally got the groove going about midway through this chapter (And it's MUCH longer than chapter 1! :D ). I have a pretty firm idea of what I want to do with this story, which is shocking for me, since I NEVER have a clue where Im going with my stories. xD

This is still just setting the stage, and Im sure that by next chapter I'll really be getting into the 'meat' of things and getting the drama rolling. I'm a bit stuck with my writing style, though. I can't decide if I want to focus more on the descriptive and imagery aspects and get more into character's thoughts... or if I want to make this fiction a bit more conversation based, as I find I enjoy reading reading well-written stories that are mainly just conversation with hardly any imagery in them just as much as I do ones that have more thoughts revealed than actual conversation. I don't know. Which do you guys enjoy more? Or am I just being confusing?

* * *

**Love is Love**

**Chapter: 2**

A restless America sat at his desk, his leg bouncing continuously, fingers tapping it's surface irritably. The unconscious motions which made it far too obvious when he was in a 'mood' were relentless and he was rendered something close to what may be considered a nervous wreck; though the thought of him actually being in such a state was pretty hard to imagine.

Alfred hating these meetings - meetings which involved 'higher ups', namely, the head of coorp in particular. There was something about seeing his male 'mother' that grinded his gears and caused his stomach to squeeze and knot. It was true; Alfred harbored feelings for Arthur. It was something that he tried to deny from even himself. It was ridiculous, absurd, and wrong - even more so than fucking his brother's brains out. Often times, he found it easy to push the fact to the back of his mind and forget it about it. But when he had to look at him, talk to him - it became a lot harder. Of course, the fact that it wouldn't ever happen and that Arthur would never look at him with the lust he felt for him.. Knowing that made it possible to bite his tongue and ignore his presence as much as possible during these meetings. That, and knowing Matthew was waiting faithfully at home for him.

It wasn't as if he didn't love his brother; he did. Canada was sweet. Alfred loved how he depended on him and it was adorable how he tried to please him. There wasn't a single thing he could find about his brother that he didn't like, from his soft spoken words to his violet eyes and unruly hair. But maybe that was the problem? Was Canada _too_ perfect? There were so many things he had grown to detest about Arthur. His stupid British slang and popous accent, his posh attitude and prude presentation, how he thought he was so much better than everyone else and the way he dressed so prestine but his hair was a mess.. And, and - ..Somehow, thinking about it, was giving him a boner.

Footsteps.

"Oh shit -- " he spoke without meaning to, clamping his legs shut in surprise as if it were visible through the desk as China stepped into his office.

"Sir, Mr. Kirkland is now ready for the meeting and wishes for you to be present. Though I trust you were aware of this already?" A soft smile gracing his face as he tried to hold back a chuckle, finding the other's nervous shock to be somewhat amusing.

"O-of course! Er, right _now_?" he asked, flustered, a question that he hardly needed to ask because he was well aware of the answer.

"No, _tomorrow_." His tone so deathly serious that had America not known any better, he might have believed him.

"I'll be right there.." he grimiced.

"Very good. We'll be waiting; don't hold us up too long. Mr. Kirkland would not be pleased." he smiled, leaving the room again.

The Asian's words never seemed bothered or faltered, it was impossible to recall a time when he was anything other than pleased or relaxed. Alfred had declared to himself that if ever he should see him in any other mood, it would be the mark of the apocylpse and that he would panic.

Gathering himself, the blond stood up, his nostrils flaring as he took in as much air as he could as if it would be his last breath. _I'll just ignore him. I always manage to get through these meetings - he hardly even talks to me anyway. _Words of reason echoed silently through his mind as he made his way to his seat in the meeting room, though they hardly seemed to help. A false sense of composure had him feeling confident for the time being, but how easy it would be to shatter..that was the troubling factor.

Everyone sat quietly in the room, only the most important people were present at this particular meeting. The branch heads and managers lined the long table, the exact reason for the meeting being called in the first place unknown; which often meant either very good or very bad things were in store.

China stood beside an empty chair - the chair that would seat Arthur. "Mr. Kirkland stepped out for a moment. He's on a very important call and will be in shortly. In the mean time, I will begin the meeting, since everyone else is now accounted for." the Asian spoke happily, but a sense of seriousness laid over his tone unsettlingly. Yao was the second most important person in the industry. It was nearly sickening to watch him run around like Arthur's slave, and yet, crazy as the idea was, China appeared to _like_ it. Oh well, if someone _wanted_ to bend over backwards for the world's pickiest man - more power to 'em!

"Now then," he started, opening a folder on the table and pulling out some papers. Eyes scanning it, his smile betrayed the words he spoke, "According to these charts, several branches have been lacking. Sales have been low, deadlines have been missed and ordeals have been handled poorly."

"The communications, education and entertainment branches in particular."

Arthur entered the room, tucking his cell phone into his pocket and pulling at his jacket. "Big surprise, right?" sarcasm in his angry tone.

"Now, wait just a minute - " Hungary spoke up, "There haven't been any issues in the education unit at all. I've been monitoring it closely!"

"Please Hungary, don't speak out of turn." the head blond responded calmly, taking his seat, "And to acknowledge your outburst; Yes there has. You're so unattentive to your own branch that you haven't even noticed it - but there was a case reported of a student attacking an educator recently."

"With all due respect - that isn't a wrong doing on our behalf. We can't control what a student does, sir."

"It is when the reason behind the assault was molestation of the student by the professor, when they were only staying after for extra help and the professor thought they were 'flirting with them'. Especially when I ran a background check on the professor in question, and turned up several counts of sexual assault and child molestation charges. _Really_! Did you idiots even check records before hiring? Are all your professors even _qualified_? I'm most disgusted with your branch right now. I could fire the lot of you!" he spat in a heated response, his words tumbling from his mouth at an alarming rate.

"I-I'm sorry I - " Hungary bit her lip, ashamed and embarrassed to learn of this event, and shocked at the deathly glare England was directing at her. Sitting, her gaze lowered to her lap, her body trembling slightly.

"Now then. Communications branch. The event that I just spoke of in the education unit - It was not something that should have been leaked to the media or public sources. The child's parent requested as such, I was informed." His words were calm again, his fingers massaging gently at his temples. Poland glanced over, a frown forming.

"Sorry, Mr. Kirkland. But like, I totally didn't leak it to any press sources. I mean, I might have told _some _people. Like, friends. But they wouldn't have spread the word around." Felik's tone sounding so sure, he shrugged his shoulders gently. It was hard for him to keep his mouth shut about _anything_, which generally made him great for his position. However, Arthur was well aware that he'd more than likely do poorly in the case of issues that should be kept 'hush hush'.

A sigh escaped the blonds lips,

"I suppose I can't be _too_ upset with your branch, Feliks. It was in poor judgement to assign you as head. I should have made you co-manager, where you would only be informed of events that we _want_ to have broadcasted." shaking his head, he added, "But you do your job well usually - and we don't have a lot of hush cases. So I'll allow you to stay in your seat. However, if you screw up again, a demotion may be in order. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." the smile returned to his face, happy with the final verdict.

Turning to face Alfred, the younger blond looking at the ceiling trying to avoid contact with him, Arthur spoke again,

"And entertainment. Really, Alfred. I'm ashamed."

"What did _I _do?" Alfred asked, irritated, his eyes still glued to the ceiling.

"What did you _do_? You handled a customer poorly, that's what."

"How do you figure?" his tone flairing with attitude now.

"Do I need to spell it out for you? Customer comes in. Customer buys computer. Computer is defective. Customer brings computer back and complains. Manager has trouble dealing with customer. Manager turns customer to Alfred. Alfred acts rudely toward customer. Customer calls in a complaint. And now I have to deal with it. Clear enough for you?" Arthur's tone slow and clear, his hands moving in gestures to each action he referred to, finally finishing his long explanation with growing irritation.

"I handled the case just _fine_. That 'customer' was just a bitch." he countered, "I offered to replace the computer with the same model she purchased or with an item of equal or lesser value _or_ to give her a store credit for the amount the computer was purchased for. She rejected, wanting instead to get the upgraded version of the computer she purchased for no extra cost. I told her we couldn't do that, she continued to push it. What do you _want _me to do? Fuck!"

"ALFRED. That is _no way_ to communicate to your co-workers, let alone your _boss_ in a working environment. I _know_ I raised you better than that!" Arthur's words escaped him before he had a chance to realize what he was saying, raising from his seat slightly and pointing his finger accusingly at his son. When he realized what he had said, he sat back down, embarrassed, and cleared his throat.

"That may be true. You handled the case fine, that is, until she continued to press the issue. You should never get an attitude with a customer and you should _certainly_ never raise your voice to them. When she continued on, you should have told her that for now you would credit her with the money and then directed her to me where she could negotiate further if she saw fit."

Brushing his hair aside idly, Alfred groaned, "Whatever. So _sorry_. Next time, I'll direct them to you right away, so you can deal with the bitches I do daily. Would you like that?"

"Your behavior is unacceptable." Arthur attempted to keep as calm as he could, his teeth grinding in his mouth. It outraged him that his son would act this way toward him at all after all he had done to raise him, but it embarrassed him even more so that he would do it at work - and in front of the other people - who stared on silently but with much interest, gasping quietly at the young blond's reluctance to cooperate.

"Whatever." the final words left his mouth, his body rising from it's spot, walking steadily for the exit.

"Don't you walk out -" Arthur attempted to halt his leave, but it was of no use. Alfred ignored his angered demand and continued out, slamming the door behind himself.

Silence.

Everyone's glance shifted from the door to Arthur.

Arthur sat in silence for a minute, his gaze still locked on the door, a look of near disbelief on his face. _That ignorant brat.._

"Shall I go after him, sir?" Yao finally spoke up, looking at his boss with concern.

"...No. Let him be. We will continue as planned." His reply finally came, a bit shaken, but sounding sure of what he was saying.

"Very well." Yao answered back, and fell silent again. _And the meeting continued on, as planned._

---

Hours passed. Surely the meeting had ended long ago, but there was no sign of any life as far as Alfred could tell. At least not from his darkened office.

_Fuck. What did I do? What's wrong with me?_

He sat at his desk in the dark, his head supported in his hands, a look of desperation on his face. What was wrong with him? Why did he do that? He didn't know. All he could remember in his thought process from the time was..being angry. Very angry. Arthur's voice. Arthur angry at_ him_. It - bothered him. But why? Arthur was a_lways_ angry with him, wasn't he? Yes. He was. It seemed to him that he could never please his mum.

He tried so hard. He wanted to make Arthur proud of him, to _impress _him.

Maybe _that _was it?

It never occured to Alfred that the reason he tried so hard was because he wanted to make Arthur happy. But, it made sense. After all, there was no other reason for his efforts. Matthew was always impressed by him no matter what he did, he was far too easy to please. And there was never the fear of losing his job - in the reality of it all, he w_as_ good at what he did. It came naturally to him, and he didn't need to work hard to keep things the way they should be. But to go beyond expectations? It wasn't for self gratification. No. Alfred was too lazy for that, and he was always happy with doing _just enough_. He figured - if you could do that, why bother setting your goals higher? If there was nothing more to gain aside from self satisfaction, there was really nothing left to be gained at all. At least, that was his reasoning, anyway. In his own example: If you already have an A+ in a class, why do extra credit?

The only reason left was that..he wanted to impress someone else. Arthur.

"Oh come on, get a hold of yourself. We've been over this. Its - not - happening." his words soft and stern, he spoke to himself calmly, slowly. Tugging harshly at his hair, tears forming in his eyes, he bit down on his own teeth hard, eyes scrunching shut.

The lights suddenly turned on, and his muscles stiffened. He didn't dare to look up. He _couldn't._ He couldn't face Arthur right now. He didn't want him to see him like this, he..

"Hey, you okay?" the voice was - ditsy, almost. Feliks? What did he want?

"Fine.." Alfred answered quickly, hoping the other wouldn't detect the shakiness in his voice.

"Why'd you get like, so angry at the meeting today? Mr. Kirkland was being pretty stern with everyone. He wasn't trying to pick on you, ya know.." Feliks's words were attempting to be comforting, Alfred realized.

"I know. I just, I don't know. I dont know. I really - "

A gentle hand came to rest on his back, rubbing in small circles.

"It's alright, Alfred. I think we all knew you weren't really with it. But Arthur seemed really upset."

Picking his head up for the first time, as soon as he was sure his tears were dried, he looked up at the other male in front of him.

"I know. And, I wish I could apologize. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to - er.."

"So why don't you do that? I think that Arthur would totally appreciate that." A warm smile lit up his face as he patted Alfred encouragingly.

"I want to. But, it's not that simple. I don't think..I can face him." A look of uncertainty reflected in his eyes.

"Why not? He's your mama, isn't he? Isn't your family the easiest to apologize to, cause like, they have to still love you?" Curiousity evident, Feliks really did have good intent. But the words stabbed at Alfred like hunting knives.

_They have to still love you._

No. They don't. Parents _don't_ love their children unconditionally. Aren't they suppose to? They are. But they don't. The look on Arthur's face when he walked in on Alfred making out with Matthew for the first time - they _don't_.

"Look, thanks for trying to help. But. Things don't work like that, and I think you should leave now. I need to head home."

He sounded sad, and Feliks frowned at this. But he nodded in understanding, and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry." Alfred spoke before he disappeared from sight, and Feliks froze for just a second before he continued off.

"Don't be."

---

Feet scuffed across the patio that lead to Alfred's house, the blond moving sluggishly toward the entrance. It was late, and dark outside. Later than usual for him to be getting home, though his schedule never seemed consistent - some days he would be home at 4, others not until 11 at night, though 4 - 7 was fairly typical. Matthew seemed pretty use to it, and was usually good at guessing when he was going to be home, because he always waiting for him at the door. Of course, it occurred to Alfred that maybe he sat at the window from three-thirty in the afternoon until he got home. Somehow, that thought wouldn't be surprising if it were true.

The front light flickered on. Something Alfred anticipated, and the door swung open, a happy Matthew on the other side waiting patiently for him.

"Welcome home, honey!" he cried, across the distance that still separated them.

Alfred smiled, "Shh. People are probably sleeping, don't disturb them, dear."

"Oh, sorry." he replied, turning red from embarrassment as he realized Alfred was right. It was nearly 10:00 at night, now!

Matthew swung the screen door open as Alfred approached it, and Alfred walked past him, taking his coat off and hanging it in the closet by the front door, and kicked his shoes off, closing them in with his coat.

"I was expecting you home for dinner," Matthew frowned, concerned, "Did you get to eat?"

Alfred smiled and grabbed his brother in a hug, his strong arms resting around his thin waist. "Nah, I saved my appetite for your delicious pancakes you made this morning. Remember?" he let out a quiet laugh, seeing Matthew's face light up.

"You really wanted some?" The younger males attitude perky, delighted in his lover's reasoning.

"Of course, silly. I love your pancakes." he answered back, brushing a few strands of hair from the other's face before placing a tender kiss on his lips.

"I'll heat some up for you with the dinner I made, too! I made French cuisine for you. Papa came over and helped me cook it, so it's really good." He informed him, hurrying to the kitchen, excited.

"Oh?" Alfred followed, sitting at the table, eyes scanning the mail that Matthew had brought in earlier in the day. "Papa was over today? How was he?"

"Yeah, I asked him to come over to help me cook. He was good, as usual, of course. I invited him over for Saturday, by the way. He said he wanted to see you, since he hasn't in a long while. I hope that's okay." Matthew's hands never stopped moving, his eyes concentrated on the food he was preparing, attempting to make it as tasty as it was before it hit the fridge.

"Yeah, of course it's alright." Alfred responded.

Fingers flipped through countless envelopes and papers and magazines. "Hey, what's this?"

Matthew turned to look, "Oh, it's a French magazine."

"What's it all about?"

"Um, well. It's about 'fancy living'. But I just like it because it sometimes has recipes in it. Papa recommended it to me."

"Huh. You don't say? Too bad I can't make any use of this. Maybe then I could cook _you_ up an exotic meal as a surprise someday, huh?" he winked, waving the magazine at his brother teasingly.

"Well, I could teach you French, you know. It's not that difficult!" he offered, not catching the fact that it wasn't serious.

"No thanks. I think learning heiroglyphics might be easier." Alfred laughed, putting the magazine back on the table.

"You really think so?" Matthew asked in shock. He wasn't very good at catching sarcasm, obviously.

"Bon apitite!" Matthew declared happily, placing the plate piled with food in front of his lover.

Alfred stared at it, not being shy about taking huge mouthfuls in at a time. "Hey, this is pretty good." he commented, his mouth full. "I have no idea what it is, but I could eat it all day."

Matthew smiled proudly. "It's Basil salmon terrine."

"It's delicious." Alfred replied, sounding pleased.

Matthew was a great cook - Alfred didn't really understand why he insisted on having Francis come over to help him cook all the time. In his own opinion, it wasn't as if having him help made it taste any better. It was already exquisite without his help; everything he made was that way. Then again, Alfred didn't have much taste when it came to food anyway, so he was easily impressed with meals. But Matthew really did have a talent in the kitchen. He spent most of his time watching food shows, reading cook books and conversing and practicing his hand at culinary with his father, so it was to be expected. Alfred couldn't really recall a time when his brother _didn't_ make delicious food - it had been his prime interest since he was young. Francis always prompted him to become a chief, but for one reason or another Matthew never took to that idea.

---

A young boy, of about 11 years walked into the kitchen, the counters made of fine granite, the floors tiled in marble ceramics - a gorgeous room. The scent of delicious aromas graced the air kindly, sounds of pots and pans clanking gently.

"Papa, what are you making?" the gentle voice came, soft and sweet. And the older male turned around to look at him,

"Ah, Matthew. I'm making French Onion Soup. Would you like to try some?"

Eyes widened with curiousity, "Can I? Really? Before dinner?"

A soft chuckle pressed past Francis's lips, "Yes. Just a taste." he smiled, bringing a spoonful to his son's lips, watching him slurp it in delight.

"Wow, it tastes so good!" his voice cracked, higher in pitch and volume than usual, a look of surprise on his face.

"I'm glad you like it." Francis's smile grew, putting the spoon in the sink before continuing in his work.

"Um, Papa?"

"Yes?" he answered, eyes not leaving the food he was preparing.

"Why do you like to cook so much?" Matthew asked, leaning in to observe with interest.

"Well. I love to see people's faces light up when they eat it. Like yours just did." he bent over to swipe his son's nose gently, then stared at him for a moment, "And I like to impress your mother. He likes my cooking a lot. It's about the only thing I _can_ do that impresses him."

"Really?" Matthew looked at him with a strange stare, something obviously formulating in his head.

"Really, really. Your mama is a hard one to please. If it weren't for my cooking, I dont know what I'd do to keep him happy. Well, actually - Er, nevermind." he laughed, cutting himself off before he made any inappropriate comments.

"Hmmm.." the young blond's face twisted, looking puzzled for a second. "Papa! Will you teach _me _how to cook? I want to impress someone, too."

A look of shock struck across Francis's features, his body straightening for a second, before he relaxed again, a warm smile taking over.

"Of course."

---

The night progressed on calmly, the two males cuddling together beneath blankets and sheets, Matthew holding tight to his brother as the television flashed, illuminating the room. His head lay on Alfred's slender, yet defined chest, the rhythmic sound of his heart filling his ear and the steady rise and falling motion from his breaths somehow soothing.

It had been awhile, he had to admit, since they had been intimate together. Of course, it seemed as though it always got this way between them when a meeting was impending apon them. And as things usually went, Matthew was hardly ever the one to engage the foreplay that always lead to an explosion of pleasure that made him whimper and plead in ecstacy. _But tonight, _he thought to himself, _will be different_. A smirk curving at his lips, his leg shaking slightly as he planned how to initiate it. Growing excited with the ideas forming in his mind, he put on a seductive tone, trying to hide his wild grin before Alfred could take note of it.

"Alfred?" he moaned slightly into his words, then patiently for an answer. Silence. Nothing. "Alfred?!" he repeated, his tone more a pout now, "Don't ignore me!" he demanded, his attention, turning and propping his body up to stare at his brother directly. "Oh!" his face turned to surprise as he realized why he wasn't getting a response. _He's asleep..._

Matthew smiled, forgetting about the desire throbbing between his legs, and leaned up to kiss him tenderly. "Good night, dear, I love you." he whispered, though it was obvious that he could have said it at a normal tone without disturbing his brother's slumber. Rolling over, he reached for the remote and silenced the television. Darkness swallowed the room, and Matthew laid his head down gently, allowing sleep to find him quickly.


End file.
